


Getting It Off Your (Ripped) Chest

by Darelz



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Discotober, EncycloBros, Gen, In My Defence Harry & Trant Are Inherently Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, One Shot, Other, POV Second Person, Pre-Slash, References to Drugs, Scars, Silly, horny energy, references to stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darelz/pseuds/Darelz
Summary: In which Harry admires manly-manly muscles, leading him to notice Trant has some unexpected scars. Written for the prompt "Backstories".CW: References to drug trafficking, references to stabbing, scars, no explicit sexual references but there is horny energy.
Relationships: Harry Du Bois & Trant Heidelstam, Harry Du Bois/Trant Heidelstam
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Getting It Off Your (Ripped) Chest

**Author's Note:**

> This is super self-indulgent and written in under a week, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The heatwave has its blessings.

Summer in Revachol usually constitutes a smattering of days on which the sun peeks out the clouds just long enough that its citizens rush to hold barbecues before the chill returns. This year is different: West Revachol has been smothered by a heatwave. It’s almost tolerable in the few buildings which have AC, but the rest of West Revachol is damned to raw lashings from the sun. The heat’s especially taxing given the fuzz which sprawls across every inch of your body, now joined by a permanent deluge of sweat. You’ve been reduced to a puddle, able to do little besides curse the Innocences for burdening you with this additional trial just when you were trying to get your life together.

But your perspective has changed since coming to two important realisations:

1 - The hotter the weather, the less clothes people wear. It’s gotten to the point that nobody is batting an eye when an officer strips down to their undershirt at the station; even Kim has dressed down.

2 - Your colleagues are *jacked*.

You already knew this, factually speaking. Most officers aren’t as brave in their fashion choices as yourself or Sergeant Torson, but you’re well practiced in assessing builds from countless autopsies. There’s a difference between knowing and seeing though - a difference you’ve come to appreciate since the station’s become a buff buffet. For some reason Jean has consistently refused your requests to remove his shirt so you can compare gains, but now you finally get to see the results of his demonic workout regime.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - You need to raise your game, Jean’s running laps around you boy!

There are some surprises in the mix too: who knew that *Lazareth Nix Gottlieb* was hiding some girthy biceps underneath his doctor’s coat? Any grievances you have with the weather are temporarily forgotten as you rejoice in this show of brawn.

ENDURANCE - Temporarily - this meeting is rekindling your feud with the sun.

You're currently trapped in the stuffiest room at the station, where you're theoretically going over the details of the DOUSED IN HOLY FIRE case; in practice the room is suffocating any useful thought you have. You’d ask to switch rooms if you thought there was any chance of someone agreeing, but your past ‘adventures’ have thrown that possibility out the non-existent window. There’s no hope of getting the other person attending the meeting to ask either - Consultant Trant Heidelstam is too polite for that. He hasn’t even unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt, despite the sticky film that’s enveloped you both. As Trant launches into a tangent about the history of Ubi architecture with his usual enthusiasm, you wonder if he'll ever relent to the heat.

Fives minutes pass. Trant loosens his tie. Another five minutes. You’re starting to doubt that you’ll ever get to see Trant’s bare chest; in your disappointment, you miss Trant's next question.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that - what did you just ask?"

“Would you mind if I adopted the more casual dress-code that’s become popular as of late? I understand it’s not entirely appropriate for the office - at least, not according to the attire norms of Revachol. In Saramizia, it's actually…”

Suddenly deeply invested in the meeting again, you have to battle to keep The Expression at bay.

REACTION SPEED - Quick, say yes before he gets distracted by trivia and forgets he even asked!

“Go for it Trant - I’m a cool cop, I can get down with any dress-code.”

“Yes, I uh, noticed.”

He flashes you an awkward smile, giving your outfit a once over.

CONCEPTUALISATION - Trant's not judging your fashion choices - you’ve just given him a *lot* to look at.

In lieu of a button-up and trousers, you've adopted a FALN crop top paired with booty shorts that hide absolutely none of your thighs - you don’t want to cover a single inch when you've been working so hard on them. The look's completed by the froggy visor you picked up in Martinaise, a reminder that your eyes are up here once onlookers have finished admiring your form. On any other day Jean would demand you change before you got chewed out by superiors, but the heatwave’s allowed you to embrace your inner  himbo gym-teacher.

If Trant wasn't so handsome, you'd worry he couldn't compete with your dashing ensemble - but any concerns are put to rest when Trant begins unbuttoning his shirt. Before you is the sort of chest you'd expect to only see carved into marble, for it's an ideal most mortals can only dream of obtaining. You almost hesitate to imagine what it would be like to run your hands along those glorious abs, as simply laying your eyes upon them seems like an act of heresy. But much like the sun cannot stop itself from burning, you are powerless to resist fantasising about how secure it would feel to be held by such toned arms.

SAVOIR FAIRE - Close your mouth and don't stare too long - you’ll make Trant uncomfortable.

Muscles.

PERCEPTION - Among the sculpted plains of Trant's chest pale banks emerge, marking the graves of battles past - scars.

Not just one, but a few distinct scars tear across Trant's chest. Experience tells you these aren't recent - they're too faded - but in the many months of working closely with Trant you've never seen these scars. It occurs to you now that even in changing rooms, you've never seen Trant take his shirt off before.

VOLITION - This could be a sensitive subject for him. It would be polite to respect his privacy by not asking about the-

"Shit Trant, you've got some mean scars! How did you collect those bad boys?"

When there's an option to ask questions, you ask - thus is the way of the human can-opener. Thankfully Trant doesn't appear put off by your questioning.

"Oh, those are just from when I got stabbed in my youth. Anyway, I was just about to explain how arsonists…"

HALFLIGHT - Stop the trivia train, Trant was STABBED?

You'd assume you'd heard incorrectly if this was anyone other than Trant, the man who informed you that he collects glass toys like it's as mundane a topic as discussing dinner. Because it's Trant though, you're certain the bombshell he just dropped is entirely true. Which means…

DRAMA - Story-time! My liege, you *have* to find out the tale behind those scars, I beg of you!

"What do you mean you were *stabbed*? How long ago was this? Why are there multiple scars? Did you get in a fight bravely protecting a puppy from harm's path? You have to tell me everything!"

Realising how overwhelming the questions flying out are, you hastily tether on an amendment.

"Or nothing if you prefer! Respecting boundaries is disco too."

Silence - only a few seconds pass, but it's the longest Trant’s allowed a room to remain silent. You worry you might have really overstepped a boundary this time. Then the pensive look clouding his eyes is cleared away with a sigh. “It wouldn’t hurt to provide you the gist of what happened. Though I’d rather you didn’t divulge the details of this conversation to anyone else - I’m only telling you because I trust you Harry.”

You deploy the most intense head-nodding you can manage: he *trusts* you.

“I won’t tell a soul - I wouldn’t even tell the voices if I could help it.”   
  
DRAMA - Betrayal! How could my liege even *think* of denying us? I had just put on the popcorn!

"Thank-you, I appreciate your discretion. You see, the situation was quite the opposite to how you imagined it. My years as a young adult were… not entirely savoury."

A knot forms in your gut: had Trant been targeted?

"There's no judgement for being a victim, it can happen to anyone."

"That’s not- though I suppose you could argue I was a victim of the free market. This happened back when I was studying [REDACTED] at The University of Königtstein...”

Wait, why is Trant’s field of study redacted?   
  
INLAND EMPIRE - It’s one of the unknowable secrets of the universe. Scholars have spent hours theorising what it could be, and are yet to come to a satisfying conclusion. Don’t fret about it.

“...the cost of living in Königtstein is significantly above average, especially for a student. It didn't help that I had an, uh, expensive 'hobby'.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - He means drugs. Trant partied as hard as you used to, if not harder. Now he’s a boring nerd - and you’ve been becoming one too since you went sober.

Trant’s not boring; you like Trant!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Sure buddy, you *like* him.

DRAMA - Shhh, Trant’s continuing his story!

“So when that 'hobby' presented a financial opportunity, I… I *may* have become involved in an interisolary drug smuggling operation.”

Oh, that makes sense. Trant helped smuggle drugs.

Trant helped * _ smuggle drugs _ *? Consultant Trant Heidelstam, who backpedals at the first sign of conflict and has a record so clean you can hear it squeak?

RHETORIC - That is what he just said. There may be more reasons that he strives to maintain an upstanding image than you first thought.

“Drug smuggling. That’s cool. Not drugs, I mean, it’s cool if someone else is, or was, cool with drugs, but they’re not cool for me anymore.”

COMPOSURE - Why don’t you repeat cool some more, then maybe you’ll find yours. 

Any prickles of shame are soothed away by Trant chuckling; you decide that actually, you have no problem making a fool of yourself if you get to hear that sound.

“While at the time it may have seemed ‘cool’, in retrospect it was a rather ill-advised venture. As you've already noticed, the operation didn’t make for a particularly safe working environment."

You take this opportunity to check out Trant's chest again - just to look at the scars.

DRAMA - Ignore what the nerd says, those scars are *super* cool. I bet he got into loads of fights.

“So did you get into fights with rival gang members? Ohmygosh, Trant, did *you* stab anyone?”

A vision of a younger Trant standing over the unconscious body of an adversary pops into your head. It's totally not attractive because crime is bad and stuff… but you tuck away the mental image for later anyway.

“Oh no, I wasn’t involved in the security aspect of the operation. The scars are actually all from disputes with associates - you know how it is.”   
  
You don’t. You’ve upset coworkers on plenty of occasions, but you’re pretty sure they’ve never gotten stabby over it.   
  
ESPRIT DE CORPS - Even Jean’s heart isn’t truly in it when he throws stationary at you.

“What did you actually do if not ‘security’? Seems like a waste of muscle.”

This might be your imagination, but you think Trant’s cheeks redden a little.

“I wasn't quite so invested in my physical health back then. It wasn’t until years later that I was even introduced to Lo Manthang stick-fighting. Rather, my contributions to the operation weren't so dissimilar to what I do here. I provided technical expertise: advising them on legal loop-holes, producing ‘official’ documents, and the like.”

AUTHORITY - Trust this dink to turn being part of an interisolary drug smuggling operation into some boring nerd shit. Why are you even into this pansy?

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Intelligence can actually be incredibly attra-

ENDURANCE - Muscles.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Can’t argue with that logic, chief.

Having no idea what the voices are on about, you pay them no heed as you continue along the next dialogue branch - which are seemingless endless when talking to Trant.

"Wait, if you have a criminal history, how come you're working with the RCM now?"

While Trant’s ever-present grin doesn’t falter, he fidgets uncomfortably in his seat.

"I was fortunate enough to have never been apprehended, meaning I don’t have any criminal record to speak of…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS - The RCM conducts background checks on all employees who have access to confidential case information, but it can’t find unrecorded crimes - unless someone informs the RCM of them one, that is. Deciding to openly admit to his history of illegal activity to an officer was a bold decision.

“...Though, there was a rather memorable instance with the Head of the Dominion Police of Königstein. We’d been experiencing a disruption in our supply line...”

Just as you start zoning out to the soothing drone of Trant’s anecdote, he’s interrupted by an insistent knocking at the door. You ignore it in the hope that whoever’s there will eventually give up, but of course Trant just has to get up to open the door. Curse how *polite* and *good-natured* he is. Waiting at the door is Jean, looking hot and bothered - although you’re not sure that’s any different to usual.

“If I was an idiot I might believe that your meeting was running over because you’re being productive for once, rather than gossiping like a pair of decrepit grandmas. But I’m not, and I don’t. Wrap it up, I need your help out here shitkid.”

Best not to deny it, lest Jean asks what you’ve learned and realises you made no rather than little progress on the case. As you prepare to sweet talk your way out of further trouble you and Trant don your best apologetic smiles, like a pair of naughty school-boy caught red-handed.

“Don’t worry Jeanie-poo, wouldn’t want your lovely face getting wrinkles. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

Jean squints at you. He *knows* you’re trying to butter him up, and doesn’t appreciate the nickname, but at least this is preferable to when you’d drunkenly slur insults at him.

“Two minutes. And take the visor off, you look like an imbecile - more so than usual.”

Before you can get another word in Jean storms off, grumbling something under his breath. Relaxing in your seat, you turn back to Trant.

“Looks like we’ll have to continue gossiping some other time. Wouldn’t want to keep the hubby waiting.”

“I should return to my work too. It’s been a pleasure talking to you. Though, if you would perhaps bear in mind what I said at the start about, uh-”

You give Trant a few moments to see if he’ll manage to stammer his way into being direct, before you release him from his fretting with a wink.

“I’m no snitch, your secrets are safe with me.”

Tension drains from Trant’s shoulders, the laugh lines around his mouth crinkling.

“Of course, thank-you Harry. I hope that we can have another one of our discussions again soon.”

This should be when you get up to leave, but you find your motivation lacking.You’d prefer to listen to more of Trant’s stories rather than ‘doing your actual job’ because ‘you’re a police officer with responsibilities’. It doesn’t help that even the slightest movement reminds you of sweat accumulating in every crevice of your body.

VOLITION - If you don’t work, you don’t get paid.

With a sudden surge of energy, you leap out of your chair; Trant’s buttoning up his shirt now anyway, so you won’t be missing out on the view. There are other chests to be admired - although none with as unique a backstory as Trant’s.


End file.
